


Aggie Visits 221B

by wearerofthehat



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:13:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearerofthehat/pseuds/wearerofthehat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton, Holmes becomes engaged to a member of Milverton's staff for the benefit of his covert observation of the house and its master. In the original story (and the 1984 adaptation) there aren't any consequences for this apart from Watson's brief indignation. So I have sought to rectify this with writing a brief interaction between the maid and Holmes set after the events that take place in the original.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aggie Visits 221B

The day after Milverton’s murder, Holmes and Watson were sitting in their respective armchairs. It was a comfortable atmosphere, as it had neither the tension of the feverish pace of the case, nor did it yet posess the artificial slowness of the longer spaces in between. Testament to this was the truly remarkable absence of any left over breakfast for Mrs Hudson to take away. But while Watson scanned the newspaper and Holmes sat smoking this relative tranquillity was interrupted by Mrs Hudson, who stood in the doorway. There was a young woman standing behind her and Mrs Hudson announced that a “Miss Aggie” had come to see Holmes. It was clear to Watson that Holmes was familiar with her for he grimaced slightly, and when he looked closer he understood why. She was none other than the house maid who had shown them to Milverton’s study only days before to bargain with the man. By the solemn way they looked at each other, Watson also surmised that this was the girl Holmes had become engaged to in his infiltration of the Milverton household. 

“I shall leave and give you some privacy, shall I?” Watson said as he rose from his chair, his tact and sensibility of such delicate situations coming to the fore.

“Please do, Watson.” 

By the time Mrs Hudson had left and Aggie stepped fully into the room and Watson had gone upstairs to his room. Then, Holmes stood, and with the aristocratic flourish that was characteristic of him, he gestured to Watson’s chair.

“Miss Aggie, would you sit down?” She hesitated, then sat. She was clearly uncomfortable as she scanned her surroundings as if comparing the comfortable (if somewhat untidy) prosperity that they seemed to hold with the hypothetical dwellings that her beloved plumber may have lived, and shared with her in the future. Holmes watched her as she did so, displaying a patience that was somewhat out of character for him. He figured that he owed her this, at least. 

“I hope you don’t mind my coming here, sir.”

“My lady, after the manner in which I used you, a man can hardly take issue with such a slight inconvenience.” 

“I am no lady, Mr Holmes.” It struck Homes as odd that of his whole statement it was this that she attempted to take issue with.

“No.” He agreed, “But then many of society’s ladies do not deserve the title either.” From any other man of her acquaintance such a statement might have been flirtatious, and perhaps even accompanied by an insinuating wink, suggesting at knowledge of the sexual escapades of seemingly genteel women. She imagined that her plumber may have done so, if he had first mustered up the wit to make the comment in the first place. But from Mr Holmes, the statement was impatient, characterised as it was by the rapid fire words which seemed to run over each other and the dismissive flick of his wrist. It was also apparent that he did not hint at the benign gossip of extramarital affairs on the part of this hypothetical class of non-lady, but rather of darker murders and betrayals. It struck her upon realising this that while the voice was somewhat familiar to her, his manner of speaking was entirely alien to her. This strangeness had the effect that she seemed to shrink in on herself, which was no mean feat, for the room and its principle occupant had already made her seem very small indeed.

“You are very different to him.” Her voice was soft, and she did not know that she had spoken aloud before Holmes reacted.

“Of course I am, woman!” He exclaimed as he stood abruptly, throwing his arms up in the air as he did so. “He was a disguise, he never existed in the first place, and you would be stupid indeed to expect otherwise after knowing of my true identity.” He was pacing across the room, and then he stopped, as he turned back to Aggie. “Is that why you have come here, to compare notes between the disguise and the true man?”

In the moments directly following his outburst, they remained motionless, as they simply looked at each other. Holmes scolded himself internally. From the very moment of her arrival, he had noted how uncomfortable she was in these rooms, and how unsettled she had been to see her rustic and naïve plumber replaced with the larger than life gentleman he knew himself to be. He had heard Watson’s voice in his head, telling him “be gentle with her, Holmes,” an echo of the advice Watson had given him countless times before. And he had vowed to himself to follow it, because damn it, he owed her that much at least, after he had used her so. But to see this woman made so small was surprisingly unsettling to him. He had never intended to marry her, much less loved her, but he had admired her for her spirit, her juice. He was painfully aware that she displayed none of it at present and to think that he may have robbed her of it through his own selfishness had momentarily frayed his tenuous grip on his patience, much to his own shame. Now he reflected that he had likely made it worse through his inability to cope with the situation. 

His inner dialogue showed itself on his usually impassive face in much the same grimace that he had shown when she was first announced. Aggie recognised it, and having extensive experience in deciphering the moods of her employers she correctly recognised the grimace as an indication of displeasure that was directed inwards rather than outwards. First, she felt incredulity that she should inspire such discomfort in such a great man – for he was great, greatness seemed to ooze out of his very skin, in the way he spoke, and dressed, and gestured – and then she thought: it was right that he should feel this way, after tricking her! This gave her courage to speak where before, his apparent anger would have kept her silent. 

“I came to ask if you are sorry for your treatment of me, and if the knowledge I gave you about the layout of my old employer’s mansion makes me an unknowing accessory to murder.” The audacity of the statement stunned Holmes for a moment before he realised that her spirit was in no way gone. Thus, after staring at her for a moment Holmes burst into laughter and clapped his hands a couple of times before sitting down across from her as if he had never left his chair in the first place.

“As for the second question, I can assure you that you are no accessory to murder. My aims were more centred around the theft and destruction of some papers that were of great value to him. His murder was carried out by a separate and unforseen third party.” His voice had seemed to echo his laughter, but as he continued, he grew more sombre. “As for your first point of interest, I cannot say that I regret it.” Here, she seemed about to speak, but he cut her off with a finger to his lip and a raised eye-brow. “It was necessary, and I would do it again. However, I will say that I am not proud of it.” 

It was, perhaps, the most arrogant apology Aggie had ever received but beneath the clipped, decisive words his eyes seemed to entreat her to accept it, as if her opinion of him actually mattered. It was because of this that she smiled her acceptance. She then stood, and he rose with her, as a gentleman would to a lady. He walked her to the door also, but before crossing the threshold, she spoke. 

“I would like to inform you that I am to be married to Toby, the footman.”

“Congratulations.” He replied with a slight smile. With that, Aggie, turned and skipped down the seventeen steps. Sherlock Holmes may have been a villain, but she reflected that she was privileged to have met him. And to have kissed him, she thought with a giggle. 

 

With that business over, Holmes shouted for Watson to come down who then settled himself back in his seat and took up the newspaper again. It was silent for a moment or two, before Holmes announced: 

“You will be interested to know that I am no longer engaged to be married.”

“Very good my dear fellow,” Watson said, laughing. “I dare say she gave you a rather severe dressing down.”

“Nothing compared to your special brand of it, I assure you.” Holmes replied with a smirk of his own.


End file.
